There are numerous reasons why, twenty years after his death, the influence and reputation of film director Stanley Kubrick are even higher than when he was alive. A lot of it is down to his independence and perfectionism being an easy stick to beat modern movie makers with. Plus, he is massive with the Pro-MAGAnum Fake News Nutters who believe that he filmed the fake moon landing and was murdered because his final film Eye Wide Shut revealed the truth about the Illuminati running the world. Mostly though I keep coming back to a quote made about, I think, Mike Tyson: when he hits you, you stay hit. When Kubrick made a film, it stayed made.

His films really stand apart, they brush off the passing of time. Whatever their flaws, they are definitive statements. Whatever they were when they came out, they pretty much are the same now. I was really struck wandering around this extraordinary treasure trove of pre-production art, props, memos and filmmaking paraphernalia, by the number of people standing looking at the clips of his films that were being projected onto the walls to give the exhibits context. They must have seen them loads of time before but even with so many other distractions, they were drawn towards those images.

Taking up a floor in the Design Museum in Holland Park until 15th September, Stanley Kubrick: The Exhibition finally arrives in the country where Brooklyn-born Stan spent most of his working life after having done something of the world tour. The exhibition is organised into eleven rooms. The first room is a mix of posters, cameras, bits about his early career and aborted projects such as Napoleon. The remainder of the exhibition covers the last ten of his thirteen films, a room for each film. So, tough luck if you're a fan of The Killing, Killer's Kiss or Fear and Desire.

A lot of the appeal is seeing the stuff from the movies close up but the exhibition attempts to show the extremes his perfectionism took. There are colour coded shooting schedules and annotated texts. In the Eyes Wide Shut section, there are six composite photos of the Commercial Road in the East End, all shot by nephew Manuel Harlin who, to get the angle Kubrick demanded, had to stand on a twelve-foot ladder that he had to keep moving down the entire road. Of course, none of this made it into the final film but the need for it was probably genuine.

It also attempts to show how his work relates to the design fashions of the time. For example, a lot of the locations for Clockwork Orange were critiques of the brutalist architecture of the time. The exhibition offers some background on the Thamesmead new town district which was the location for the Droogs fight by the river.

And all that's very interesting but, let's not kid ourselves, predominantly the pleasure is seeing all those great toys up close. And it's all here: the typed pages of “All work and no play make Jack a dull boy” from The Shining; the Born To Kill helmet from Full Metal Jacket, Ken Adam's model of the war room from Dr Strangelove. Really, I think the only thing missing is the monolith from 2001. I wonder who nabbed that?

And it is childishly exciting to see all this stuff. Granted, different rooms work better than others. Barry Lyndon is a favourite film of mine but other than some costumes it doesn't have much to offer the exhibition other than a display of the eleven different properties that were filmed in to make up Lady Lyndon's house.

The stand out room is A Clockwork Orange. Seeing the obscene Korova Milk Bar props is a sordid thrill. There are signs everywhere saying please don't touch, which is frustrating because you often want to get in a play with the artefacts, and it was hard to resist the urge to give the catwoman's Very Important Work Of Art a sly karate chop.